


As luck would have it

by nsowlwrites97



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Friendship, Gen, Kidnapping, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Summoning, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22315396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsowlwrites97/pseuds/nsowlwrites97
Summary: Compared to most angels, Aziraphale was actually fairly difficult to summon.Unfortunately for him, this particular summoner had passed the test with flying colors.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 243





	As luck would have it

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into writing Good Omens fic. Enjoy!

Compared to most angels, Aziraphale was actually fairly difficult to summon.

For one thing, his name was so often misspelled in the ancient texts it came up in that anyone who might have been bothered to try wound up scratching their heads, shrugging, and overall feeling slightly relieved that their entire worldview (namely, the laws of physics) was as everyone insisted it was.

For another, Aziraphale was not a particularly well-known angel. Not such as, say, Gabriel. Not that Gabriel got summoned all that often – as an archangel, he had protections in place for these things.

The third, and perhaps most important reason, was that the summoner needed to have true faith and true intent. They needed to genuinely believe and want, even need, their summoning to work.

So, for a summoning to actually summon, all three of these obstacles had to be overcome. Unfortunately for Aziraphale, this particular summoner had passed with flying colors.

Aziraphale stumbled as he landed, unbalanced and disoriented. He tried to blink away his dizziness, but his vision seemed to have gone hazy, and there was a strange quality to the light in the room. It was flickering, strangely bright one moment and curiously dim the next, and as Aziraphale staggered backwards he felt heat behind him.

He froze.

Cleared his head.

Focused.

Hellfire.

He’d been summoned into a circle of hellfire.

Oh, bugger.

Aziraphale moved back to the center of the circle cautiously. He’d gotten dangerously close to the edge. It wasn’t very large, less than two arm-lengths from center to perimeter.

It was hard to see anything past the edge of the circle. The flames blinded him, and there didn’t seem to be any other light sources in the room.

Someone drew in a sharp breath behind him. Aziraphale turned, squinting, and as the figure stepped closer, he was able to make out a middle-aged priest staring at him, a book hanging limply from one hand.

Aziraphale glanced around the room more carefully. He was in a church, in one of the side rooms. Of course. It was always easier to summon an angel to a church, and why should a priest go elsewhere?

“My dear sir,” Aziraphale began, taking a small step forward. He wasn’t willing to move much farther, and something soured in his gut as he remembered that a circle of hellfire wasn’t necessary to summon an angel. Just to trap one.

“You are the Principality Aziraphale?” the priest asked.

“Yes, that’s me. Why have you summoned me, Father?”

“I have been tasked with a holy duty, Principality,” the priest answered, with the conviction of someone who had all the faith in the world in what they were doing.

“A holy duty? To trap an angel?”

“To bring a – a _deviant_ to justice.” The priest paused. “Divine justice,” he added.

“Divine…” Aziraphale's mind raced. It couldn’t be. They wouldn’t… Why not just send him a notice to come Upstairs?

Because he didn’t trust them. Not any longer. And they were well aware of that.

Aziraphale looked back at the priest, who appeared to be studying him. “Who told you to do this?”

The priest smiled, as if he had expected the question. “The archangel Gabriel, of course. He came to me in the night, and asked that I do this, as a show of faith. I have always believed.”

Aziraphale swallowed painfully. It was probably only a matter of time before Gabriel showed up, then. This priest, however, was not truly at fault; he was only fulfilling a duty set to him by, in his view, the most righteous beings he could imagine. “Did he tell you what would happen if you, ah… failed?”

And there, finally, a flicker of fear crossed the man’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. “He told me that with true faith, I would not fail. And here you are.”

No, of course the priest would have true faith after Gabriel had revealed himself to him. True faith, and fear of retribution for failure. Aziraphale had no doubt that whatever agreement the priest had made, it wouldn’t end well for him if he failed in his task. Perhaps Aziraphale could find a way to keep the man out of Gabriel’s vengeful path after he… got free. He was still working on the details of that part.

Aziraphale sighed, thinking of where he had been not two minutes previously. Crowley had probably overcome his surprise by now and would be trying to figure out what had happened, pacing around the bookshop, maybe calling some of his contacts, assuming he still had any. Most likely he was going to get unduly worried, but if Aziraphale could free himself before Gabriel arrived, there’d be no need.

An idea sprang to mind. He didn’t want Crowley coming here, but maybe the demon could help from afar. He just needed to get in contact.

Aziraphale focused on the demon in the bookshop and began trying to establish a connection. But psychic links were difficult to manage at the best of times, not to mention when one end of said link was trapped in a ring of hellfire and the other was allergic to churches.

“What is your name, Father?” Aziraphale asked.

The priest’s eyes narrowed. “The archangel Gabriel warned you might ask that. He told me not to answer.”

“Why, I didn’t… that is to say, I mean…” Aziraphale spluttered, before collecting himself. “I don’t mean you any harm, I do hope you know that.”

The priest shook his head. “Lord Gabriel said you were dangerous. He said you might try to convince me to free you.”

“ _Lord_ Gabriel?” Aziraphale scoffed. “Why, if that’s what he’s calling himself now, he really does need a lesson in humility!”

Ignoring his outburst, the priest walked over to a small table by the wall and exchanged his book for a piece of paper. He held it out in front of him and cleared his throat, as if preparing to read from it.

“What – what is that?” Aziraphale asked nervously. He subtly tried to miracle a gap into the hellfire circle, but the only result was several sparks leaping from the flames, startling him into jumping back. No escape that way, then.

“Lord Gabriel told me to call him once my task was done.” The priest glanced around nervously, as if expecting something to come bursting through the walls. “He – ah – he warned me to call him quickly. Said there was a chance I’d have some unpleasant surprise visitors if I didn’t.”

Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat. Crowley. Of course, Aziraphale realized, targeting a priest to do this had the added bonus of it all happening in a church. Which would weaken, not to mention hurt, Crowley to enter.

The church wasn’t chosen for the sake of having the priest be the one to summon him; rather the priest had been chosen for the church. Chosen to keep Crowley away for as long as possible.

“Now, you may want to hold on just one moment,” Aziraphale began. “Why don’t I tell you why Gabriel is… upset with me? And then you can decide for yourself, whether I truly am a… a deviant. Hear both sides of the story, so to say.”

The priest shook his head. “You’re a liar. You deserve no mercy. I can only thank the Lord for giving me such an important part to play in the affairs of Heaven.”

“Now, look-” Aziraphale began, but the priest cut him off.

“Oh, with these words I summon thee, Gabriel, the great and powerful. I call upon the host of Heaven to see that justice is delivered to all those who would disobey the holy will! Amen.”

Aziraphale scowled. Was that what he was to them then, a delinquent angel? And the words themselves weren’t anything special, didn’t hold any particular power. The reverence with which the priest held the paper said he, at least, believed otherwise. Most likely Gabriel had convinced him of such and was now laughing at the priest’s expense.

But Aziraphale didn’t have time to worry about that, because just then a bolt of lightning struck the ground next to the priest, sending sparks and smoke into the air. Where before there had been nothing, now stood an archangel.

Aziraphale glanced at the ceiling. There was a tiny, smoldering hole where the lighting had struck.

Small mercies, Aziraphale thought. It could help with the connection.

Gabriel spread his arms wide in greeting. “Aziraphale!” he exclaimed, smiling. “How long has it been? You’ve certainly given us some thinking to do, haven’t you?”

“Oh, do skip the pleasantries, Gabriel,” Aziraphale snapped. “Are you here to kill me or not?”

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel sounded offended. “Kill you? We’re not barbarians! I just want to talk!”

The amount of bullshit Gabriel was layering on was truly amazing, Aziraphale thought. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it… or rather, had willfully ignored it, for so long. “Oh yes, like you wanted to talk last time. I seem to remember you forcing me to walk into a column of hellfire! That didn’t work out so well for you, did it?”

Gabriel’s smile vanished. “That was some trick you pulled. You and the demon.”

“What trick?” Aziraphale asked even as his heart raced. They couldn’t have figured it out. Could they?

“No?” Gabriel smirked. “Then you should have no problem walking right out of that circle.”

Aziraphale’s heart sunk. Gabriel grinned menacingly. “Yes, that’s what I thought. You’re not the only angel to ever talk to a demon, you know. Switching bodies, very clever. But it means you’re still just a plain old angel. And we can still destroy you the way traitors deserve to be destroyed.”

So the plan was simply to kill him, here and now. Aziraphale wondered vaguely why Gabriel had come alone, without any backup. No angel could control hellfire. Did Gabriel expect him to get sick of sitting in the circle and just walk into the flames? Speaking of…

Aziraphale frowned. “Where did you get this hellfire?”

Gabriel smiled again, slyly. There was something disconcerting about his expression, something that suggested there was something Aziraphale had not figured out and was going to regret not having figured out very soon.

“I – I don’t expect any demon would have been willing to walk into a church and set all this up for you,” Aziraphale tried. Gabriel’s smile grew wider.

“Oh, Aziraphale,” he laughed. “I thought you were smarter than this! Come on, you orchestrated that clever switcheroo with your demon friend, and yet you can’t figure out how we trapped you here? I mean, come on!”

“So you – you worked with some demons,” Aziraphale surmised. “But…” his eyes fell on the priest. The man had started rocking slightly on the balls of his feet at the mention of hellfire. He appeared nervous and guilty and excited all at once, watching the proceedings, but not abnormal in any way.

Aziraphale blinked sideways and looked at him instead through the ethereal plane.

There was something unusual about the man. It was very similar to the way witches and psychics appeared in the ethereal plane, but the source of his power felt significantly more… demonic.

Aziraphale gasped as he blinked back to the material world. Gabriel was grinning triumphantly.

“You – you-”

“Well, not me, technically.” Gabriel corrected. “This was Below’s contribution. You’re not the only one to ever make an… arrangement.”

“You – that is to say – Hell… _gave_ this man the ability to summon hellfire? Have you any idea how incredibly destructive that could be? What if he can’t control it properly? Thousands of people could die!”

Gabriel shrugged. “Much fewer than would’ve died in the apocalypse.”

Aziraphale felt like he’d been slapped. He’d known Gabriel to be heartless, had seen plenty of it in the days leading up to the aborted Armageddon, but somehow seeing him shrug off the deaths of billions so callously ignited the spark of hate that had been simmering in Aziraphale since then.

Not wanting to even look at Gabriel any longer, Aziraphale turned to the priest. The man seemed to have been jolted out of his excitement about the proceedings with Aziraphale’s words of destruction. “What did they tell you?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice level.

The priest glanced at Gabriel, who gestured toward Aziraphale, as if giving the man permission to speak to him. Disgust coiled in Aziraphale’s gut.

“Lord - Lord Gabriel promised me my place in Heaven. And he told me church attendance would increase tenfold! The donations will come pouring in!”

So it was about money, then. Money and salvation. It was so mundane, Aziraphale thought. This man hadn’t agreed to this to save a dying relative or a starving child; rather, he’d jumped at the opportunity to get rich quickly and secure his spot in what he thought was paradise. It was so far removed from what a priest should be, and the fact that an archangel had orchestrated it… well, it was far from what Heaven was – or rather, what Aziraphale had once believed Heaven to be.

“And – and what did you think about working with demons, then?” Aziraphale asked. In his mind, the connection to Crowley seemed to establish itself properly, and though it warbled and twisted Aziraphale clung on to it, trying to make sense of the static.

The priest grew uncomfortable at this. “Lord Gabriel reminded me that the ends justify the means, and we must all sometimes work with those we despise.” He paused, glancing at Gabriel. “And he told me that if I failed, the demons would drag me down to Hell immediately.”

Gabriel nodded impatiently, and completely ignored the second part of the priest’s answer. “Yes, of course we must. Now!” he clapped his hands. “The others would have come to watch your execution, Aziraphale, but I’m afraid they’re otherwise preoccupied. I believe the demons needed someone to obtain holy water for them. We were to deliver it, but none of us wanted to get our hands dirty, you understand.”

Terror lodged in Aziraphale’s throat, sudden and sharp, and he was momentarily unable to speak. “What – no – you can’t – what are you planning?”

Gabriel grinned. “Well, we couldn’t have him swooping in to rescue you now, could we?”

Aziraphale felt his legs grow weak. Was Crowley even now similarly trapped somewhere, with Beelzebub and some human gloating and getting ready to shower him with holy water? That thought scared him more than the thought of his own execution. He tried focusing on the faint connection, willing the fuzziness away, imagining that he could _speak_ to Crowley, know what was happening. Never mind that even the best metaphysical link didn’t usually allow angels and demons have actual, full-on conversations with one another.

But Aziraphale, merely by virtue of spending so much time with the demon, had learned something from Crowley. Had learned to use something that most other angels and demons didn’t have. An imagination.

Aziraphale dropped to his knees and ignored whatever Gabriel was saying, ignored the fire raging around him, ignored the fact that he was in a church. Instead he pressed his palms into the floor and focused on the roughness of the stone, letting it ground him.

The connection was there. He could _feel_ Crowley on the other end, and that meant Crowley could feel him. Aziraphale imagined speaking to him, imagined they could communicate, convinced himself that they could come up with some plan, some way they could both get out of this. He pushed away the looming fear that at any moment Crowley would disappear, that the link would sever, that they would kill him and Aziraphale would have been helpless to stop it.

And then… a flicker. A burst of anger, not from Aziraphale himself, but from Crowley. Aziraphale latched on to it. More, he needed more. He poured all his own fear and anger and love into the connection, willing Crowley to feel it, to know he wasn’t alone, to respond…

A flood of emotions hit him then, relief and more fear and anger and a fierce protectiveness.

Aziraphale smiled and opened his eyes. _Crowley._

_Hey, angel._

Gabriel looked angry. It appeared the archangel had been trying to get his attention. He was shouting at the priest, something about going into the ring of fire and getting Aziraphale to listen to him.

Aziraphale stood, and Gabriel scowled at him. “Done with your little prayer? She won’t help you now.”

“Oh, I know that,” Aziraphale said calmly. He felt more collected with the connection established. It helped too that he knew where Crowley was now. _Are you all right?_ he asked. 

_Better now I know you’re here._ The reply wasn’t truly words so much as emotions, but Aziraphale understood it all the same.

Gabriel’s scowl deepened. “What were you saying?” Aziraphale asked quickly, before Gabriel decided to get everything over with.

_Plan? Bit trapped here._

_Me too. I’m thinking,_ Aziraphale replied.

Gabriel sighed, a long-suffering sigh of annoyance, but Aziraphale didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was getting out of here and saving Crowley. 

“You always were a little too attached to humanity, I think,” Gabriel said. “I just can’t understand why. What appeal do they hold for you? That you would side with a _demon_ , for them and against the Host?”

Aziraphale arched an eyebrow. “Humanity is a lot of things. They have love, and curiosity, and loyalty. Heaven-”

“Yeah, yeah, all right. You know what? I just decided I don’t care,” Gabriel interrupted, waving dismissively at him. Just then there was a scuffle on Crowley’s end of the link; a feeling of trepidation, followed by a flash of glee, then anger and vengeance. And then, nothing.

 _Crowley!_ There was no reply. Aziraphale’s chest seemed to seize. There was only one reason the connection would cut off like that…

“- and now, I think, your time is over.” Gabriel was saying. “Any last words?”

Aziraphale couldn’t speak. He could hardly even process what was happening. His heart was screaming in rage and fear and grief, even as his body went cold, because Crowley was gone. Crowley was _gone_. Gabriel gestured toward the priest, and it took his mind too long to connect the dots, to understand what Gabriel meant for the priest to do.

The priest stepped forward. Raised his hands. The fire grew taller, nearly level with his head. Aziraphale processed it all in slow motion, even as there was a flash to his left, even as he was pulled to the ground, even as darkness filled his vision. The fire raged past him, kept at bay by the black shield that seemed to have materialized around him. The heat was almost too much to bear, but he leaned into the cool something that had wrapped itself around him and focused on that instead.

And then the fire abated, and for a moment everything was quiet.

“No!” someone shouted in outrage. Gabriel, Aziraphale reminded himself. That was Gabriel. Aziraphale became aware of the arms wrapped around him, and the shoulder his head was leaning into, and yet before he could work out what had happened the cool something disappeared very suddenly, and Aziraphale felt like a leaf dropped into a raging river. _Crowley,_ he thought brokenly.

His mind caught up. He raised his head.

Crowley stood over him, defensive, wings spread wide. There were glowing embers caught between his feathers here and there, but they didn’t seem to bother him. The ring of fire had gone out, nothing left of it but an ashen circle on the floor.

“No!” Gabriel shouted again. “You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Yeah, well, tough luck,” Crowley snarled.

“You – you-”

“ _You_ will not hurt him, ever again. You will not come near him, you will not even dare to speak with him. I should tear you limb from limb right now, I should summon back that hellfire-”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said hoarsely, tugging on his sleeve. He was still in shock, still struggling to understand what had happened, how Crowley could be here when he was sure he’d been killed…

Crowley looked down at him, his gaze softening. He turned his hand to grasp Aziraphale’s, helping him up. Aziraphale stared at him.

“All right, angel?” Crowley asked softly.

“Am _I_ – you – I thought you were-”

Crowley grimaced. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“This is _exactly_ why we planned it this way!” Gabriel shouted. They both turned to look at him. Aziraphale couldn’t help but think the archangel sounded like nothing more than a petulant, whiny child just then. Maybe he always had.

“Just give it up already,” Crowley said. “We don’t want anything to do with Upstairs _or_ Downstairs, you know that.”

“Yes, don’t you think it’s rather time you let us be?” Aziraphale added, surprised to find his voice steady. He squeezed Crowley’s hand, grounding himself in its warmth. “I mean, there must be a reason you keep failing to kill us.”

“Oh yeah? And what reason would that be?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “It’s ineffable.”

Crowley smirked. Gabriel made a noise of disgust, and vanished.

For a moment, there was blessed silence, before it was broken by a quiet “Er…” 

Crowley and Aziraphale stared at the priest. The priest stared back. Then the man made a noise that might have been a “Right, I’ll be off,” and nearly ran out of the room. Crowley turned to follow him, but Aziraphale tugged him back.

“Don’t. He was tempted into this.” 

“He could control _hellfire._ ” Crowley spat.

“I’m sure it’s only temporary,” Aziraphale said. “Hell wouldn’t want a human with those abilities running around, would they?” He didn’t think the priest needed to worry about Gabriel any longer, either. Most likely the archangel had already forgotten him. 

Crowley shrugged. “Well, it’s Hell, so…”

They stared at one another. And then, no longer able to stop himself, Aziraphale pulled Crowley into a fierce hug. Crowley returned it.

“I thought – I thought… but you’re all right.”

Crowley nodded against his shoulder. “I’m good, angel.”

Aziraphale pulled back, searching his face. “But how? There was… something, on the connection, but then you just disappeared.”

Crowley smiled thinly. “It was just some bloody good luck. Very similar setup, mind you, Beelzebub and some human summoned me into some dank cellar somewhere. The human was meant to splash holy water on me. Bastard tripped and spilled it on the binding circle instead. They’d drawn it in chalk, the idiots.”

“That’s… you got very lucky, Crowley.” The thought that it had all been pure dumb luck scared Aziraphale. If not for that human’s clumsiness, both he and Crowley would be dead. They’d failed in defending themselves.

Crowley swallowed. “I know. Must’ve broke my concentration on the connection trying to dodge the holy water, though. Sorry about that.”

Aziraphale nodded. The terror he’d felt when he’d thought Crowley dead and gone was slowly receding, but the thought of what could have happened left him feeling unsteady and shaky. He rested his head against Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley hesitated, then slowly put his arms around Aziraphale again, but this time one hand landed on the back of Aziraphale’s head. His wings shifted to encircle them both, as if to block out the outside world. Neither of them said anything. For the moment, it was enough to listen to each other breathe.

“You know,” Aziraphale began quietly, “I think – if you really had… gone – I might have preferred the hellfire. To living in a world without you in it.” The confession seemed to lift something from his chest, and the act of saying it made him all the more sure of it. There was no more pretending, no more denying to himself, or to Crowley, how he felt.

“I know how you feel,” Crowley whispered, squeezing him tighter. “World’s beautiful and all, but… lonely, otherwise.” And wasn’t that the truth? After all these years together, they knew they couldn’t go it alone. And more importantly, they knew they couldn’t do it with anyone else. 

“Gabriel will try again,” Aziraphale said after a moment.

Crowley’s fingers curled into the angel’s hair. “I know. Beelzebub will too, eventually. We’ll put some better protections in place. And when they do come, we’ll fight them off.”

They stood in silence for a while longer. Aziraphale tried not to think about how many times they’d need to fight off Heaven and Hell before one of them was finally killed. This time had been far too close already. And the nerve of Gabriel! Hellfire in a church, honestly…

“Crowley,” Aziraphale asked slowly, raising his head, “how are your feet?”

Crowley frowned. “Fine, actually. Must be the hellfire circle. Made everything inside it… unconsecrated? Desecrated. Whatever.”

“Imagine that,” Aziraphale smiled.

Crowley shrugged. “Didn’t need to.”

“Let’s go home, shall we?” Aziraphale stepped away and offered Crowley his elbow. Crowley smiled and took it. The thought crossed Aziraphale's mind that their survival could be due to some ineffable plan, but it didn't change anything, really. Might as well call it luck. And they’d do everything they could to make sure they didn’t need to rely on luck again. Eventually, they’d find a way to get Heaven and Hell off their backs permanently, and they would never stop protecting one another, regardless of any plan or lack thereof. And as the church dissolved around them to be replaced by the familiar warmth of the bookshop, Aziraphale had never felt gladder to have Crowley there with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Please review!


End file.
